Sounds at the Edge of Sleeping
by CorpseGrl
Summary: Sherlock wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and drift off to But there is something in his mind he can't understand, like a small noise humming just at the edge of He discovers a ridiculous riddle - he's being kept awake by a sound he can't


_Disclaimer: All rights to the characters of Sherlock Holmes, John Watson and Molly Hooper belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the writers/producers of BBC Sherlock. No copyright infringement intended._

* * *

Sherlock hadn't gotten much sleep over the past three days. This was a normal when working cases, except he didn't have a case right now. Therefore, he might attribute his current insomnia to boredom, but that was actually not how his mind worked. When presented with intense boredom he would become irritable and moody but could sleep just fine. He even found that it was his body's way of replenishing stores for when the next case came around. Yes, during the periods between cases he would typically be able to get a minimum of 6 hours every night.

Yet, there was something going on at the back of his mind, some small unsolved situation that he couldn't dampen enough to sleep. It was driving his irascibility through the roof. A low level headache was building behind his eyes and the edges of his sight were beginning to blur. Tension was building in his neck and back so that just sitting upright was uncomfortable. Sherlock wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and drift off to sleep. To aid in this endeavor, he had been attempting to enter his mind to sort through his thoughts and identify the small thing that was keeping him up. It was like a small noise humming just at the edge of hearing. John, however, couldn't shut up. Every time Sherlock got focused enough to begin sorting his thoughts, John would make some sound or provide some comment that would derail Sherlock's process.

How could one person be so unbearably irritating? It was like he couldn't help but be annoying today. It had hurt Sherlock more than he had thought possible to leave John as he had months ago and he was made whole by the doctors return to his life. Sherlock would admit that becoming flat mate and friend to John Watson had been a good decision. He liked having someone to talk to, work out his cases with, and John provided some insight into the parts of human experience that eluded the consulting detective. But today he was a nuisance.

Over the course of the last 2 hours, John had shared the football scores (dull), information concerning the impending divorce of an old army friend (predictable), the fact that his sister's birthday was next weekend (sentiment), and a myriad of other useless scraps of information. When he wasn't talking John would make little tapping noises on his keyboard or drum his fingers on the arm of his chair. He made unconscious popping noises as he read the paper and hummed while making tea. Each had been spaced perfectly to interrupt a fresh attempt at mental organization.

Unfortunately, in his sleep deprived state it was impossible for Sherlock to ignore these intrusions and the tidbits became messy data at the forefront of his mind, obscuring his search for the mental mystery that was keeping him awake. There was no place in the flat that he could escape the noise created by the doctor. Sherlock didn't have energy enough to chase the doctor off with belligerence. He had also been trying to make an effort not to be outright hateful to John since their long separation and difficult reunion. It had taken weeks to regain John's friendship and Sherlock wasn't going to jeopardize it because of tiredness. He had to get out of here.

* * *

Sherlock told John he was going out for fresh air and did his best to storm out of 221B but his heart wasn't in it. He hated how badly he wanted to sleep. There were few places he could go to get the desired amount of solitude to solve this nagging problem. Hailing a cab he headed for St. Bart's pathology lab even though it was an hour before his preferred pathology partner would be there. Good, he might be able to solve the problem before she got there and began her own assault on his senses.

Sweeping darkly though the halls, Sherlock entered the pathology lab with ease. As predicted, Molly Hooper wasn't present and her early-shift counterpart was also absent. Sherlock headed over to an unused lab station and sat down. He didn't even bother with the pretense of setting up a microscope and slides in order to look busy. He simply sat there and concentrated on discovering the source of his disturbance. It took longer than he had anticipated to erase all the useless chatter John and the trip to Bart's had crammed into his forebrain. He tripped over the mess in his mind, blaming most of his clumsiness on the dreadful lack of sleep. Finally getting to the recesses of his mind, he learned that the offending thought that seemed like a sound actually was.

There was the memory of a sound but it was muffled, like it was begging to be heard and he had buried it beneath layers of protection. That could only mean one thing; the sound was sentimental in nature. How could he possibly be kept awake by a sound that couldn't be heard? It was preposterous. With a fair amount of disgust he approached the offensive memory. He could just delete the thing and be done with it, but the fact that he had kept it for this long meant it probably was important, relating in some way to his 'family'. He had discovered during his exile that some memories of those he had left behind had been necessary to keep and return to in order to keep his stamina and sanity intact. Acknowledging that curiosity was a large part of his own personality and the satisfaction of knowing all the answers was something he rarely denied himself he approached the sound with determination. He had to know what sound it was that he was apparently, subconsciously missing…

* * *

Silently the lab doors opened and Molly Hooper stepped inside. She was just getting ready for her shift and had come to the lab to warm up the necessary machines for the day's volley of tests. She saw Sherlock, of course, and although she recognized he was in thought, she needed to know why he was there. Molly hadn't seen much of him in the past few weeks as he had been reestablishing his reputation with the public and with John. Maybe he was just bored.

Sherlock released the memory just as Molly spoke his name.

"Sherlock, what do you need?"

It was louder and clearer than he expected and he felt his entire body relax from the strain he had been under since his insomnia began. The sound was too intense to be a mere memory, though, it was coming from outside. He was hearing it in real time. His eyes sprang open and he was facing Molly. She had a curious look on her face, a gentle mixture of worry and warmth. She smiled softly at him.

"You."

Molly sucked in her breath sharply and both of them recognized how the air in the room seemed to freeze. Both were reliving that night so many months ago when that same exchange had been held and both of their lives had changed irrevocably. Sherlock broke the silence.

"I haven't been able to sleep."

"Oh?" Molly shook her head to dispel the ghosts of that night and the days that followed.

"There was something bothering me and I just figured out what it was."

"Trouble with a case?"

"No. I've not had any real challenges since my return."

"I'm sure you will soon. You're a real hero you know. So are you just bored? Come to work on an experiment?"

"No. I came to clear my head. It seems there was a sound I couldn't hear that was keeping me awake."

"That doesn't make any sense." Molly looked genuinely puzzled. Sherlock always spoke oddly and would be three steps ahead in any given conversation, but he never spoke in riddles. "Are you okay?"

"I will be now. May I lie on the cot at the back of the lab?"

"Of course. I am glad I have it here. Sometimes you just need a little power nap during those midnight shifts. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"I will be perfectly fine as long as I get some sleep."

"Well go lay down and I'll try to be as quiet as possible."

"No," he spoke, a bit more forcefully than necessary causing Molly to start. He spoke again, more gently, "It seems, Molly, that your voice is quite soothing. Please continue as if I'm not even here."

"Alright." She was still not certain that Sherlock was well, but went back to making preparations to start her shift.

Sherlock got as comfortable as possible on the cot. Frankly, it was terrible but his body was so tired he could likely have slept on a slab in the morgue. He listened as Molly got her clipboard. She hummed slightly to herself and narrated the steps of a procedure as she planned it in her head. She spoke softly and mostly to herself but Sherlock found it was indeed calming. Sherlock was thankful Molly hadn't pressed the issue. He knew he would have to address the very serious implications of this revelation. But that could wait until he was better rested.

Days of searching for silence had uncovered that what Sherlock Holmes really needed for peace was the gentle sound of Molly Hooper.

* * *

**_AN: This is part of a one-a-day Sherlolly challenge. I had intended for a much shorter piece inspired by my own sleeplessness the last few nights. The story went it's own way though so if you find it too wordy, please drop me a line. I may choose to return to this at some point during my 1AD challenge to address what this revelation will mean for the pair. Remember, reviews are love!_**


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